Please don't kill me.

I only just got a new job.

And Dante's lingering in my head after an extended vacation, so I'm hoping to be able to get back to work on Lights again soon. Except I have a Tales of Big Bang that I have two stories to finish for by the end of January, so... I'll see y'all whenever I see you. (Pst, one of them I've been advertising on my profile for ages. Lost Souls is finally going up in February, guys!)

This little thing, however, is about a year old now and has just been sitting on my computer collecting dust since last NaNo when I needed 15k words to finish my goal of 100k for the month. (This then fell about 170 words short, and I had to go write something else. Go figure, Dark's actually as much of a pain in the ass as his original.)

First chapter takes place... ah... -has to stop and go check numbers, because it's been ages since she touched Ripples- About five years after the end of the Main Arcs of An Echo through Time. There's stuff mentioned in here that comes up in Lights and which hasn't been posted yet, so... mild spoilers, I guess? -shrugs- Enjoy.


Mismatched eyes looked out over the city as the snow drifted down from the sky. A thin layer already white-washed the scene, smoke and steam from hundreds of chimneys making the forest beyond the city's edge impossible to see naturally. The man was sitting on the roof of a manor that still felt like too much, wearing a uniform he still thought was stifling.

The Marques of Belkend was still trying to wrap his head around that title, if he was being honest with himself. The rank of Colonel was a lot easier to bear, being as he'd held it for six and half years, after all.

And now, as the first snow of the season drifted down from the heavens, he found himself about to take on a new title—father.

Dark Daemione was going to become a father, a long fourteen months after his marriage to the former princess of Kimlasca, and, sitting on the roof in the falling snow, he felt rather numb.

The anticipation, the excitement, the love, the awe, it all fought with fear, and anger, and a sense of foreboding. In a rather typical assassin's move, he'd taken all of the conflicting emotions and shoved them down.

"You know, when the midwives told you to stay out of the way, I don't think they meant for you to hide out on the roof in this snow."

The voice was unexpected, but not unwelcome, and Dark looked over at his adoptive father, watching silently as the auburn-haired man sat down, heavy Order uniform supplemented by a thick cloak. Ryndor looked like he'd gotten a decade of his life back after everything had settled down, but given how old he'd been looking before, that left him looking his age at thirty-four.

"I do actually like snow, you know," Dark said softly. As if the fact that his mindscape was just as much snow and ice as anything else wasn't a good indicator.

"Guess that's a good thing. You wouldn't have survived all those years outside Keterburg if you didn't."

Dark sighed. He didn't like thinking about those days. Back when he was doing everything in his power just to survive, when Danté was a regular threat to his life.

Back when he had no one to depend on except for Koran.

"I shoulda kept my mouth shut, huh?"

Dark glanced over at Ryndor, rather amused by the tone of voice the older man had used. "Probably," he agreed.

"Hard to believe I'm about to be a grandfather."

"Is it scary that you're younger than Jade was when he became a father the first time?" he asked. After all, here sat Ryndor, not quite thirty-five yet, and Jade had just turned thirty-seven when Amethyst had been born.

"Guess that says something about the lives of assassins versus career military, huh?"

Dark couldn't help laughing. The complete apathy was fading, albeit rather slowly. "Hey now. I'm technically career military, myself."

The silence that fell over them was thick and heavy, threatening to choke them both. Dark suddenly wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

"So... If I asked you to take over the majority of the Brotherhood's work until we're built back up to where we should be..."

Dark took a deep breath, and let it out along with a few expletives in liger. He was just as annoyed as Danté when Forcystus had brought the whole thing up. Or maybe he should be annoyed with Kairi, who had told them everything that was going on over on Aselia. Either way, he was rather iffy on the Brotherhood.

Rhun?n may have taught Danté the basics, but Dark had been left mostly to his own devices. Which was exactly why he'd taken fairly well to the military, despite being uncomfortable in uniform. He didn't like killing.

But then, short of psychotic idiots (Derund Mohs came to mind), who did?

Thoughts of Mohs actually brought Dark's mind back to what was going on in the manor below him.

He was going to be a father. It scared him, certainly. He had a lot of enemies, and there was every chance they would bypass him and his beautiful, equally deadly wife in favor of trying to end their child's life prematurely.

"I don't know, Ryndor," he answered honestly. "I'm finally being considered for another promotion, Natalia's going to need to rest for the next few weeks, which means I have to worry about the city, Asch wants to bring another set of reforms to the table next month..." He stopped and let out a breath. "I'm gonna be struggling to find time for my kid. When am I supposed to be running around as an assassin?"

Ryndor sighed. "I guess you have a point. You had a rough enough childhood, and it's not like I don't have three other God-Generals willing to cover for me. Guess I just wanted to be able to relax some. Rebuilding the whole world is a lot harder than I actually expected."

Dark let his eyes drift over the city, watching the snow continue to fall. It was peaceful, and though Dark could see lights on in various houses, he knew that most people would be on their way to bed about now. These were Natalia's people. His, too, technically, but he was still having trouble wrapping his head around that.

A large part of him was grateful for Asch being king. Some part of him was still bitter that Natalia had been robbed of her rightful place as queen. But if he was struggling so much to settle into his role as marques, the stress of being the king would have done him in already.

He was going to have to be careful about how he raised his children—plural, because he knew Natalia wanted two—because there was a very important line between a proud but fair noble and an arrogant, cruel lord. Dark had dealt with both in his life, and married one of the former.

It was hard to adapt, being from the roots he was, but Natalia was always there for him.

And now, it would be his turn to be a pillar of support for their child.

A child who would never have to face the hardships he had.